


The Three Stooges Fight God, or Fran, Lambo, and I-Pin's Guide to Torturing Your DM

by SnappleFics



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 13yl, Characters Play DnD, Gen, Odd Stylistic Choices, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, dnd and khr style violence, self-indulgent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnappleFics/pseuds/SnappleFics
Summary: After pestering his friends to do a campaign with him, Fuuta is finally getting to DM a game a DnD for Fran and the kids. The problem is that they're all brats who thinks DnD is only for nerds. Suffer along with Fuuta as he constantly rewrites his campaign to work with his players stupid decisions, homebrews game mechanics to satisfy his beloved idiots' fantasies, and tries to grapple with Fran's monster fucker tendencies all for the sake of playing a fun game with his best friends.





	1. Session Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so. quick confessional before we get to the story.
> 
> 1\. it’s been a really long time since i’ve posted a chaptered work for this fandom ;;; i’ve been writing, but it’s been for a more lenient audience (trades w/ a bud), so i’m not sure if any of this is too ooc (especially since all the main characters in this are side characters w/o well established personalities)??? so i’m going to try and write them my own way, and we’ll just have to see how things goヽ(ヅ)ノ if you feel like something is severely ooc you can tell me tho!
> 
> 2\. i really, really love dnd but i... have never played dnd? (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ or rather i’ve never played a “proper” session? either way, if you notice anything incorrect about the playing/dnd aspect of the fic, go ahead and tell me so i can fix it in later chapters!
> 
> 3\. the story goes in and out of the kids immersion within the game?? there are parts that are written directly in the dnd world they've created and there are parts with them discussing things whenever they break immersion. right now i'm portraying switches from “ooc” and “in game” with a double line break (not to be confused with timeskips that are single line breaks). may get confusing, but... idk a better way to do it??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> sorry for the long author's note, i promise they won't ever be this long again, i just wanted to cover my bases before starting this thing. hope y'all enjoy!

“Fuuta, when are we going to start this DnD thing? It’s already almost seven.” Lambo whines from his spot laying upside down on the living room couch, legs dangling off the back.

It’s a chilly day in winter, the first day of winter break actually, and even with the heater at full blast it’s still too cold for Lambo. His near frozen toes curl as he cranes his neck and glares at I-Pin and Bianchi who are both lying diagonally in the kotatsu, taking up two spaces each and effectively shutting him out. He rubs his arms, goosebumps writing odes to winter in braille up and down his skin.

“We just have to wait for our last party member to get here and we can start.” Fuuta chirps, somehow more chipper today than usual, as he walks in from the kitchen carrying a tray of piping hot mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate.

He passes Lambo, giving him time to reorient himself, and sets two of the mugs on the kotatsu for I-Pin and Bianchi before turning around and setting the tray on the coffee table, taking a seat on the floor next to it.

Lambo slides off the couch and onto the icy floor beside him, shivering as the cold cuts right through his pajama pants into his skin. The mug is hot when pressed against his frigid hands, but he welcomes the burn with open arms. Fluffy white plumes of steam, like tiny puffs of dragon’s breath, float up and burst into nothing just before they can kiss his skin. He takes a big gulp of the drink, letting it sear down his throat, and wonders vaguely if this is how drinking lava would feel.

“Who’s even coming?” I-Pin asks, as Lambo’s too busy gargling fire to say anything. Her finger gently traces the rim of her mug as she waits for her drink to cool. “You never told us.”

“Well... it was kind of hard to find someone that would agree to play, even you two didn’t want to.” Fuuta says, sipping at his drink, burning his tongue with each attempt. He wrinkles his nose and gives his mug a look after each failed attempt, as if upset with it for acting difficult.

“Because it’s a lame _math_ game.” Lambo’s words come out garbled through a mouthful of hot chocolate. Tiny spurts of it leap from his lips with each word.

“DnD is not just math. It requires creativity, too, and it’s _super cool_ . And _please_ stop drinking and talking at the same time.” Fuuta pulls out a handkerchief to wipe a stray stream of hot chocolate dribbling down Lambo’s chin. “Anyways, it was _very_ hard to get someone to come play with us. I had to bribe our last player with food.”

“That still doesn’t tell us who-” The doorbell cuts I-Pin off.

Fuuta jumps up from his seat, hurrying to answer the front door. “That must be him.” He scurries out the living room and disappearing around the corner, an excited smile on his face.

“‘Him’.” Lambo parrots, now lukewarm chocolate spurting out of his mouth.

I-Pin rests her chin on her fist. “Then it must be Nosaru, Daisy, or-”

“ _Here he is!_ ” Fuuta half-sings, trying to conjure up some enthusiasm in the room as he presents an extra dreary looking Fran with snow swept shoulders and a runny nose, gesturing his hands towards his friend dramatically as Fran does lazy little jazz hands.

I-Pin and Lambo let out synchronized groans. The _No!_ ’s and _Not him!_ ’s are too loud for Fuuta to cover up with nervous fake coughing, but he does certainly try. “Really feeling the love here.” Fran drawls as he unravels the stiff, plaid scarf wound around his neck and Fuuta helps him with his coat.

Lambo wrinkles his nose. “No offense, Fran, it’s just that - well - you’re the last person we’d want to spend _time_ with.”

“You guys love me.” Fran says, dropping down next to Lambo at the coffee table with a dull thud and snatching the mug right out of his hands while Fuuta is too occupied with putting his winter wear in the coat closet to stop him.

“Because Fuuta and Chrome make us.” I-Pin counters, watching from the safety of the kotatsu as Lambo tries (and fails) to reclaim his cup.

“Still. I’m be-love-ed.”

“Grudgingly.” Lambo mutters, throwing his arms down onto the table as he gives up on ever getting his cup back.

“Loved.” Fran repeats before taking a sip from (not) his mug, sniffling and snorting his snot back up his nose. “So, are we eating first, or are we starting this promising night with Fuuta’s nerd game straight off the bat?”

“Ugh, food first.” I-Pin says, pushing herself up to walk to the kitchen, letting out a labored sigh. Bianchi instantly shifts into a starfish position, finally claiming the whole kotatsu as her territory. “I’d like to hold off on this travesty for as long as I can.”

“Amen.” Lambo grunts, joints cracking as he hefts himself up from the floor.

“ _You guys!_ I swear this is gonna be fun, you’ll see.” Fuuta tries to reassure them as he finally pops back in, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing as he worries about his friends’ lack of enthusiasm.

“Fuuta, in the thirteen whole years we’ve been together, there’s never been a time where we’ve played a game that didn’t end with someone crying or getting thrown out a window.” Fran points out as he passes him on the way out the living room. “I highly doubt we’ll actually enjoy your nerd adventures.”

Fuuta narrows his eyes, but he’s silent as he follows his friends into the kitchen. ‘ _You guys are going to_ **_love_ ** _this game._ ’ he thinks, grabbing his oven mitts off the counter before pulling the mini pizzas out the oven. ‘ _I’m gonna make you love it. Even if it kills me._ ’

* * *

“Okay, I hope you guys are as excited to start as I am because I really want to have fun playing together.” Fuuta almost squeals, leading his friends into his room where he set up their play area.

A low to the floor, square table sat in the middle of the room surrounded by about a dozen plush pillows and cushions of varying soft, chalky colors. Each edge of the table was lined neatly with manuals, character sheets, and other miscellaneous nerd tools they’d need to start the game, each set in one of their favorite colors.

Fuuta’s dark blue blackout curtains are pulled closed, keeping the last strains of evening sunlight outside. The room is lit by two lines of white fairy lights, one running along the walls of the room close to the ceiling and the other wrapping around the table and pillows in a loose circle. It’s dim and warm, a cozy aura radiating from the small space.

Fuuta sweeps into the room and spreads his arms out in a _Ta da!_ fashion, doing tiny little jazz hands just for flavor. His face is completely alight. His cheeks are glowing a sweet, rosy red. A wide smile, toothy and childlike, sits on his face so bright it’s almost blinding. His delight is so apparent, so overwhelming, it bleeds out of him and the others can feel it rushing to embrace them in waves.

Lambo and I-Pin glance at each other and let out soft sighs, definitely weary but still fond smiles on their faces. Despite their doubts about the game and about the thought of spending hours locked in a room with everyone’s favorite spawn of Satan, they knew they couldn’t back out and deny Fuuta anything that made him this happy. (Though they’re certain they _will_ keep complaining.)

“This is such a cute set up.” I-Pin says, making a beeline for the side of the table with the red dice and token, sitting criss cross applesauce on the floor and pulling two soft red pillows into her lap.

“And it’s _warm_.” Lambo gushes, letting himself fall into the pile of pillows to I-Pin’s left, claiming spot with the green dice and tokens.

“How many hours did this take you to set up?” Fran asks as he takes the spot across from Lambo with the yellow set.

“Only three!” Fuuta chirps, still beaming as he settles down across I-Pin next to the blue set.

“I’ll have to give you points for passion-slash-obsession. So, how do we start?”

Fuuta picks up his copy of the handbook and starts flipping through it. “Well, the handbook breaks up the rules and stuff in three parts - character creation, how to play, and magic - but since we’ve got premade characters and modules I guess we can just jump straight into playing?”

Lambo tries sitting up but keeps slumping back into the too soft pillows. “Awwww! We don’t get to make our own characters?”

“And what’s a module?” I-Pin asks.

“I mean, it’s just easier to use the characters that are already made. Plus, I’m afraid if I let you make your own someone-“ He turns to look Fran directly in the eye. “-will cheat on their ability score rolls.”

“You got me there.” Fran admits with a shrug, reaching up to pick his nose only to have his hand slapped away by Fuuta.

“And a module,” Fuuta says, throwing Fran a small pack of tissues to blow his nose. “Is a premade adventure or campaign published for other people to use and play with so you don’t have to make up your own storyline.” He picks up one of the books on the table. “The one I had planned for us is an official one where you deliver stuff for a Dwarf guy.”

“Ugh, I do _not_ want to do deliveries in my fantasy life too.” I-Pin gripes, leaning forward to rest her head on the table.

“Yeah, that sounds boring...” Lambo is limp in his plush nest before suddenly perking up, pushing the pillows smothering him down under his arms so he wasn’t buried beneath them. “Hey, we should make up our own module thingy. I wanna save a princess!”

“Uh, I heard that it takes a lot of planning to-”

“Well, if we’re going to do our own adventure, we should make our own characters too.” Fran picks up and scans through the premade characters on the table. “All of these guys suck.”

“I don’t think that-”

“C’moooooooon, Fuuta!” Lambo reaches his arms out and starts banging on the table rhythmically, dice bouncing along, chanting, “Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs!”

“Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs!” I-Pin and Fran chant along with him, I-Pin as an act of solidarity and Fran just to increase chaos.

“Guys-”

“ _Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs! Prin-cess! O-Cs!_ ”

“ _Okay!_ ” Fuuta snaps, hands jutting out to cover Fran and Lambo’s mouths. “Okay. I’ll write us a new adventure, just stop having a revolution.”

They all hoot and clap as Fuuta runs a hand through his hair, completely exhausted yet holding onto the determination he has to make this as fun as possible. “Alright,” he says, reaching behind Lambo to pull out his laptop from under his bed and opens it up on the table, quickly plugging in his password. “I’ll be pretty busy writing the outline for the campaign, so I _guess_ you can make the characters.”

Fuuta doesn’t miss the odd way Fran is fiddling with his dice. “But you’re not allowed to make your own-” He snatches the d20 Fran was playing with, noticing it was a bit heavier than usual. “-and I’m getting _you_ new dice.”

“Fran, you and Lambo will make I-Pin’s character. I-Pin, you and Fran will make Lambo’s character. And Lambo, you and I-Pin will make Fran’s character. That way you can’t cheat your rolls. Please use the basic races and classes, I don’t want to have to look up how to play with a character that’s a minotaur or something.”

Fuuta’s tapping away at his keyboard now, eyes narrowed in concentration. “And, since you all have terrible handwriting, I’m going to make an online campaign and send you all the link to it. It’ll probably be easier to exchange and work on character sheets together this way too.”

“I guess that means we should get our laptops.” Lambo groans, hefting himself up from the comfy pile, barely registering the _Get mine too!_ I-Pin sends his way.

“You asked for this. It’ll probably take _at least_ a couple hours to prepare everything,” Fuuta says before whispering, slightly giddy, under his breath, “Oh, there’s _so_ much _planning_ involved in this.”

“Seeing you get horny over planning is so revolting.” Fran says, image growing hazy as he begins to mist out of the room (presumably to get his things back in Italy).

Fuuta, already neck deep in DnD wikis and help sites, just sticks his tongue at him, not looking up from his screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there isn't much dnd in this chapter lol ;;;; i wanted to post the prologue/session zero along with the first part of session one, but i realized my draft expires today and i reaaaaaaaally don't wanna redo my tags or anything so session one will be up later today or tomorrow. if you're actually interested in this fic, please try to stick around even if nothing happened in this chapter lmfao i promise there will be more dnd in the next chap!!!


	2. Session 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter we meet the gang and enter our first dungeon! it took a while for this chapter, and everything is still weird rn format and personality wise (meaning fran, fuuta, i-pin, and lambo who i haven't wrote a public work for in a long time ;;;), but hopefully it's good enough lol hope you enjoy!

The next morning, a gray and gloomy day they had no knowledge of due to the tightly shut curtains, they find themselves in those same seats in Fuuta’s room.

The pillows seem to have grown in number, and a couple fluffy blankets have been thrown in the mix. They each settle in as deep in the cozy nest as they like and set up their laptops, forming a square in the middle of the table, and pull up the campaign and characters they created.

“Alright,” Fuuta starts, sliding a bag of new yellow dice towards Fran. “I don’t know if this story is going to be _great_ , but I’m having fun writing it, so I think it should be good enough.”

“So, should we exchange characters now?” I-Pin asks Fuuta, reclining back on a small mountain of cushions. “And do you need them? The only thing I know about DnD is from _Stranger Things_ and that’s that there are players and a storyteller trying to kill them, and I’m assuming that’s you.”

“Yeah, the actual title is DM or GM, but you’ve got the right idea. I’ll be making the world you guys play in; I’m basically in charge of the story and making sure you have a good time.” Fuuta pauses to chew on his bottom lip, brows scrunching together in thought. He drums his fingers against the table in thought. “Uh, we can share the characters first, since we’re going to need them to play and all, and we can jump right in.”

“Oh, we’re not presenting them?” There’s a tinge of disappointment evident on Lambo’s face as he settles on his stomach, pushing the pillows out of his face with his elbows.

“I’ll read and describe things about you guys as they would be described naturally in story.” Fuuta says, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely use everything, and I’ll do a description of how your characters look and act in the beginning.”

The three share their sheets with each other in the online campaign, but no one except Fuuta really looks at them. “Wow.” he says, looking through the sheets, eyes wide in sloppily concealed horrified awe. He tries to give them a supportive smile but can only manage to bare his teeth at them, eyebrows furrowed and a bit of pain in his eyes. “These characters are, uh, interesting choices...”

“They were for each other. We weren’t going to make them _good_.” Fran deadpans, propping his arm up on the table and laying his chin on his open palm.

“I didn’t say they weren’t good.” Fuuta says, though his face is pinched as he drums his fingers against the bottom of his laptop. It takes him a moment but he eventually straightens his back and puts a (real) cheery smile on his face. “Alright! These are fine! I can work with them; let’s do it. I’ll describe your characters in story going in the order I-Pin, Lambo, Fran - so you’ll know which characters are yours - and then we’re off to our first adventure.”

“Uh, since these characters are your babies, I’ll try and use the exact way you described them which will probably lead to, uh, _interesting_ results.” Folding his hands neatly on the table, Fuuta’s eyes sweep from left to right to quickly gauge his friends’ mood. None of them seem to have high expectations for the game, but he’s hoping to change that. “Are you ready to start?”

There are various different grunts of affirmation from around the table.

“Okie dokie!” Fuuta chirps, voice hitting a higher octave in his excitement. He clears out his throat, cheeks bright red, and takes one slow, deep breath. Then, in a dulcet tone, syrupy and warm and right, he begins. “Our story takes place in a small, cottage-esque guild hall in the humble lumbering town of Matsunaga...”

* * *

* * *

Our heroes, the sole members of Adventurer's Guild #64651

* * *

* * *

“Wow. That must’ve taken all day to come up with.” Fran drawls.

“Yeah, I agree. That name is _inspired_ , I can’t believe Fuuta came up with it in only eight hours.” I-Pin flashes Fuuta a teasing smile, eyes crinkling as she chuckles at his reddening cheeks and flustered expression.

“It’s absolutely _amazing_ how lazy this writing is, even _I_ couldn’t manage something like this.” Lambo says, adding the final flame to their three part roast.

“ _Guuuuuuys!_ ” Fuuta moans as his friends continue to rib him over the name he’s given their guild. He’s tempted to bang his head on the table at least once, but his computer is in the way and he doesn’t want to break it. “I only got a night to make this whole story, and the name’s like that for a reason! Stop picking on me and let me get to it.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“ _Thank you._ ”

* * *

* * *

Our heroes, the sole members of Adventurer’s Guild #64651 aside from their guild master, are in the common room.

It’s a small, cozy rather than cramped, room that’s more similar to a family room than a break room for adventurer’s. Covering a large portion of the repurposed wood floors is a red fur rug made from the pelt of a once fearsome three-headed beast. A set of two wooden armchairs and a matching loveseat made of sand papered tree branches and cream colored hand stitched cushions sit in the middle of the room facing a crackling fireplace.

A cluttered desk and red leather chair sits on the right side of the room beside an open doorway. Reference books stuffed with loose sheets of notes and odd scribblings pile high on top of it to create a tall tower of knowledge that promises to crumble should it become even a little unbalanced. Uncovered inkwells lay still beside a discarded white quill, a half written official document safely held down in case of wind by their combined weight.

Directly across the room sits an equally messy, lopsided bookshelf. Two of its legs broken, it stands slanted and awkward against the paneled walls. It’s shelves (also uneven) are disorganized, books and knick-knacks lying in them like crooked teeth: some deeper in the mouth, some jutting out to the point of nearly _falling_ out, and all of them ultimately lying at some odd angle.

And across from the fireplace, perched beside the room’s only window, is a round table where the whole guild, all three members, are holding a intense game of _Go Fish_.

Taking her sweet time deciding who she should ask for a four from is the group’s monk, an 18-year-old, half-orc girl with a pastel red complexion. Her skin is decorated with pale scars of varying thickness and lengths, though the one that draws the most attention is the scar on her face: a thin, straight line running down from the start of her right eyebrow over her nose and lips all the way to her chin.

Though she is average height for a half-orc, with a height of six feet she’s much taller than her companions, even when sitting. She is a heavy, stocky young lady, very obviously the strongest person in the room. Her muscles are so well defined, even in a relaxed state such as this, that they could rival those of Atlas.

Though it’s obvious she has a very strong, well built body that takes years of training to obtain, evidence of her age is easily noticeable. Although her jaw is square and strong, she has a very youthful face. Her cheeks are like two chubby gumdrops, round and sweet and blushing. Her smile is bright and lovely, even considering the formidable lower canines jutting out past her lips. Her eyes, big and brown, are gentle and warm. Her hair, long deep red hair that’s just on the verge of being black, is pulled up into two fun space buns with wrap-around braids, loose strands falling down to frame her baby face.

The youthful look of her face and her bulging muscles were in great, almost comical, contrast with each other. She looks like

* * *

* * *

“-uh - sorry to break immersion for a second here - for the next couple minutes it’s going to feel like I’m reading a _My_ _Immortal_ excerpt because the flow of the story is being bogged down by describing the characters’ appearances and personalities, but you’ll have to excuse that since you - well, you have to know what kind of person you’re playing and I’ll probably never describe these traits in this amount of detail ever again.” Fuuta cuts himself off, fiddling with his pen as he speaks. “Also, I just want to remind you guys that, since I’m mixing in the description you wrote for them, there might be an occasional shift in uh... vernacular? Uh, so... yeah.”

* * *

* * *

 She looks like one of those bodybuilding toddlers. Like a child’s face has been photoshopped onto a full grown bodybuilder’s body.

She wears the orange robes, yellow sashes, and white “kung-fu” pants that are traditionally worn by the monks of the mountaintop monastery she was raised in. While technically an orphan presumably abandoned by her family on the temple’s front steps, she has never felt like she lacked family, loving (and well loved by) the monks that raised her and completely devoted to their way of life. Good of heart, pious, and  incredibly gentle, she uses her strength for the good of others. Currently, she works for Adventurer’s Guild #64651 in order to send money to her family, the monastery in deep need of repair after a terrible snow storm.

And the name of this young lady is Vive la France.

Vive taps her bare foot, claw-like nails pattering quietly against the wooden flooring. She scans her cards then her fellow guild members before to the young halfling to her left. And says,

* * *

* * *

Fuuta looks at I-Pin expectantly, who blinks before clearing out her throat. “ _Uh, got any threes?_ ” she asks, looking at Fuuta with an uncertain expression.

He flashes her an ‘Okay’ hand sign and then nudges Lambo, signalling to him that he was up next.

* * *

* * *

“Sorry, go fish!” Zorak Swagmaster chirps, cheerily kicking his legs, feet unable to reach the floor even when he’s at the literal edge of his seat.

Zorak is an incredibly tiny 18-year-old boy, even for a halfling, whose full standing height is about three-foot-two. His limbs (though proportionate with the rest of his body) are short and squishy with a lack of hardened muscle and an excess of fat. His stomach, though not exactly bulbous or protruding, is round and his sides are decorated with two soft rolls of fat. In his chair now, his head is just barely above the table, looking like a chubby little human toddler who’s snuck his way into a spot at the adult’s table, and his face and demeanor didn’t help him look any more mature.

Like Vive, Zorak has an adorable baby face. He has incredibly rosy cheeks from his constant grinning and giggling, two dimples on each side of his face. His ever present smile illuminates even the darkest heart, bright and filled with the pure and genuine joy that many believe only exist in fairy tales. His hair is a delightful mess of short, fluffy curls that hug his cheeks and is just long enough to kiss the odd, flower shaped birthmark he has on the back of his neck; the twisted strands a mix of pastel blue, purple, and pink.

A fan of his class’ traditional aesthetic, Zorak dresses more or less like a traditional bard. He wears a white puff sleeved shirt and white tights under a vest and paned slops. The vest is pink with intricate gold vines, leaves, and flowers embroidered all over it. The slops are pink with gold panes, that same floral embroidery along the waistband and cuffs. Each article of clothing is handmade by his mommy, a fact that Zorak proudly states any chance he gets.

A leather sash covered with near-to-bursting pockets crosses over his body; the pockets filled with shiny rocks and bottle caps and anything else that catches his eye, making him jingle every time he moves. He makes a happy little tune with it as he continues to kick his legs, little brown ankle boots threatening to fall right off as their laces come undone. The accordion strapped to his back, a polished wood work of art about two-thirds his size, clacks against the seat of his chair as he bounces.

Raised in the forest by a dryad named Vilarri, Zorak is well versed in lore, nature, musical instruments, and not much else. Currently, he’s left home to save enough money for a new instrument that’s caught his eye. Knowing absolutely nothing about the world outside his forest, however, it’s hard to tell whether he understands how currency even works.

“Ummmmmm... Do you have any sixes?” he asks, directing his gaze to the tiefling to his left.

“Go fuck yourself.”

* * *

* * *

“ _Fran!_ ” Fuuta gasps, staring at his friend with a slack jawed expression.

“It was in character.”

“You don’t even know what your character is like!”

“Well, now they’re rude.”

“Oh God...” Fuuta rereads Fran’s character’s profile before restarting, cueing Lambo in to speak with a wave of his hand.

* * *

* * *

“I think you mean ‘Go Fish’!” Zorak chirps before stretching out his short little arm to grab from the top of the deck, unbothered by his friend’s words. Whether it’s because he’s perpetually chipper or because he’s used to how beastly his companion is is up for debate.

The tiefling, Fran Frannyfran, always tries to disguise his infernal heritage, though he doesn’t do this effectively.

He tries to hide his eyes, both iris and sclera completely black, in public under the hood of a navy blue cloak. The four blackbuck-esque horns sitting just behind his hairline (the middle pair about twice as long as the outer pair) poke out from under a black top hat, the tips erupting from the fabric like sprouts growing through the dirt. His hair is long and pulled into a ponytail that sweeps over his right shoulder, locks kept loose in an attempt to veil his long, goat-like ears.

His teeth are razor sharp and visibly longer than the average human’s, especially his two inch long canines, so he rarely bares his teeth or smiles (though he doesn’t believe he has much reason to do either anyway). His thick, whip like tail is hidden in plain sight, sitting on a hook on his blue utility belt hanging crooked on his waist like a length of rope.

He is a thin, wiry creature that could be mistaken for a skeleton if not for the brown skin lying taut against his bones that look too-ready to snap. His clothes - an off-white puff sleeve shirt and suppose-to-be-tight black pants - hang loose on his frame. He’s 22 but has the looks of a scrawny, unattractive college freshman in a pathetic attempt at a Will Turner cosplay. His boots, each equipped with a raised insole, are loose even when laced as tightly as possible.

He’s a beastly, bitter fellow with a penchant for riling people up. Insults, sarcasm, and jokes of poor taste flow from his lips as naturally as music flows from his keytar. Though the few people who care for him blame this malicious temperament of his on his past, said past is shrouded in mystery as he’s always taking on new identities. He’s at the point where even he can’t remember what his true name is.

The one thing Fran is certain of is that he’s a crook, his favorite scam performing in front of a large crowd and using his tail to steal from their pockets while they’re distracted. And his favorite thing to do with his spoils is wear whatever accessories he’s pilfered, no matter how much trouble he could get into if he’s caught. Currently, he’s wearing bracelets, chains, and his hat is covered with decorative cogs, gears, and feathers made from a bar of black metal he stole from a trader years ago.

Though he says he’s turned over a new leaf and wants to do good by working for the guild, rumors in Matsunaga are afloat. Many say he’s only trying to earn enough money to eventually flee the country.

“Got any fours?” he asks Vive, knowing full well she does as they’re playing with his marked deck of cards.

Just as Vive is passing him her fours, their guild master walks in.

Their guild master, Sawada Tsunayoshi, is a tired 27-year-old human man that is the product of the nation’s terrible habit of sending its youth to fight gods. Having once led a small militia against a horde of monsters led by an angry deity, he works now as the guild master to Matsunaga’s only guild hall so he won’t have to go on any other adventures, unable to simply retire as the nation’s law states heroes are to work until death. Exhausted from years of battle, he doesn’t carry even a bit of the aura most warriors have, carrying the air of a scatterbrained librarian or bookstore keeper instead.

* * *

* * *

“Okay, so, this is where we get to the adventure part, and - before we actually start - I want to take a short second to tell you guys that you’re all _huge_ _meanies_ for making fun of my guild name when all of your names are... _like that_.”

“Hypocrites? In this family? Never.”

Fuuta sticks his tongue out at Fran before picking up the stack of paper sitting to the right side of his laptop and straightening them out. “Okay, so, now that we’re done with the character descriptions, we can get to the adventuring part.”

“ _Finally._ ” his friends chorus, obviously happy to finally be able to do _something_.

“So, Tsuna - your guild master - comes in and says, _Hey guys? I have a little, uh, personal mission for you. Just a tiny favor; I’ll pay you each five gold._ ” Fuuta says, slipping into a Tsuna impression that visibly shocks his audience.

The other three stare blankly at him for a second. “Do we... say stuff now?” I-Pin asks.

“Yeah, it’s play time now. You should know enough about your character’s personalities, so I’m giving you all full reign. You can now talk and act as you think they would.”

Lambo raises his hand. “Question; what’s a guild master?”

“He’s kinda like your boss that sends you on missions. If you guys were Charlie’s Angels, he’d be Charlie. Or that’s _supposed_ to be what a guild master does. He’s never really sent you guys out to do anything outside of town. He kinda just tells you to help some villager and then tells you _Good job!_ and then gives you a little bit of money.”

“That... sounds more like doing chores for our dad.” Lambo says. “Is Tsuna our dad?”

“What? No. He’s not old enough to be your dad.”

“Is being a dad about age though? My dad was the same age as me for a couple years.” I-Pin smiles a bit as she thinks of Fon, who is most likely doing a sick back flip somewhere in the world.

“Oh. Well, I mean-“

“Perhaps he’s a DILF?”

“Fran, please. I _will_ cry.” Fuuta shields himself from Fran’s malicious existence by hiding his face behind his campaign notes. “Let’s just all try to move along from Tsuna, okay? Do you have any other questions?”

“Is five gold a lot of money?”

“Uh, with five gold you can buy a single simple melee weapon.” Fuuta explains, quickly elaborating when Fran gives him a blank look. “Like, if you wanted a sword or a hammer or something like that, it would cost around five gold, but you could only get one.”

“So it’s chump change.”

“Well, _you guys_ are chumps, so I think that any little bit will help.” Fuuta checks the online sheets. “You and I-Pin only have fifteen gold each and Lambo has literally zero gold because you made him a hermit as his background, so I think even five gold will help you guys out.”

“Alright, fine.” Fran slumps, now needing both hands to prop his head up. “I look at Tsuna and say, _Whatcha got for us, Daddy?_ ”

“ _Um, uh, well,_ _son_ _._ he says, a bit uncomfortable that he’s been thrust into a father figure role at such a young age but not wanting to making you feel bad after you got so vulnerable with him. _I need you to pick up something for me in the next town over. It’s a really quick trip, only a couple days by cart._ ”

Fuuta coughs and halts his Tsuna impersonation. “You guys can talk out of character and discuss what you want to do at any point in this campaign, but you do need to actually role play discussions in character if you want your characters to be aware of what’s being said. Does that makes sense?”

“I mean, obviously we’re going to do it, Fuuta. Since this is probably meant to help us segway into the real plot.” Fran drones. “Unless we’ll be fine if we say no?”

“You can do whatever you want. This is your town; I’m just the haggard construction worker toiling endlessly to make it somewhere livable.”

I-Pin, Lambo and Fran exchange looks before inching away from Fuuta to form a small huddle closer to I-Pin’s side of the table.

“What do y’all think?” Fran asks.

“Well, I saw the first couple of lines on his notes-” Fuuta clicks his tongue and positions his papers out of Lambo’s line of vision. “-and I saw that this is the first thing he’s planned for us.”

“I say we just do it.” I-Pin fiddles with the end of one of her braids in thought. “Or else Fuuta’s gonna want to rewrite the whole campaign to fit our decision. We’ll be sitting here for weeks as he keeps planning and planning _and planning_...”

“Dear God, no.” Fran breaks from the huddle and snaps his head towards Fuuta. “ _Alright, we’ll do it._ ...That was in character, by the way. That’s hard to distinguish using my regular voice.” He coughs and rubs his throat before speaking again, this time his voice two octaves lower. “ _We’ll take the job._ ”

“Ooooh, we’re all doing voices? Can I do my Kirby voice?” Lambo asks.

“I guess it _would_ be easier to distinguish whether you’re in-character or out of character if you guys do voice too.” Fuuta says, trying to figure out how to look at his notes without letting Fran or Lambo see them. “I say go for it.

“ _Then I’ll do my Bianchi impression._ ” I-Pin says, making her voice lower and more sultry.

Fuuta quickly flicks his head back to look at the door. “Okay, but you have to be extra quiet, or the real Bianchi will come in here and _kill us all_.”

“Got it.”

“ _So, yeah, we’re gonna do it. Give us the job._ ” Fran says again, reaching behind I-Pin to snag a folder off Fuuta’s desk and handing it to him.

Fuuta takes the folder and shields his notes with it. “ _Okay, so, I need you guys to go to Nurn Buldihr and pick up a package for me._ _It should only take two days of travel by cart._ ”

“Still a delivery quest?” I-Pin groans, head lolling back and accidentally bumping into the leg of the desk.

“Technically it’s a pick up quest. _I’m going to go get the cart, you guys can go over this map and figure out the route you want to take._ ” Fuuta clicks something with his computer mouse and a map of the fictional town they were in, Matsunaga, as well as the surrounding area pops up on everyone’s screens.

Matsunaga sits in the middle of the map, marked as a small orange dot. The town that they were meant to go to, Nurn Buldihr, is marked in green to the north-west of their town. It’s very close, but the two towns are separated by the thick forest surrounding Matsunaga. There are a couple paths through the forest: one curving to the left taking the long way around, a shorter one going over a river, and the shortest one through a cave with a skull and crossbones marking it.

“This the piece of the map.” Fuuta needlessly explains. “I’ll give you guys, like, two minutes to go over it and see which way you want to-”

“Cave path.” his players chorus before switching into their character voices. “ _Cave path._ ”

“...Are you _sure_?” A bit of cold sweat starts to form on Fuuta’s brow. He puckers his lips until his mouth is just a thin slit on his face.

“It’s the shortest path.” I-Pin explains, waving towards her computer.

“Plus there’s a little skull and crossbones next to it.” Fran adds. “You’re probably trying to be subversive and make us think the good path is more dangerous.”

Fuuta looks back and forth between his players and the map on his screen, chewing on his lip in thought. He pulls his laptop and notes closer to him, quickly writing some notes His eyes flick left and right, a personal quirk that his friends understand is the sign of him making a mental note. “Okay, fine! Does that mean you’re ready to go?” he asks, fussing with his laptop, fingers rapping on the keyboard and making small, quick motions with his mouse. The three nod. “Okay... Tsuna walks back in. _Well, getting the cart was a lot easier than I thought. If you’re ready you can join me outside and we can get you guys on the road._ And he walks back out.”

“I follow him.” I-Pin says.

“I follow her.” Lambo echoes.

“I guess we’re all just following each other.” Fran drones.

“Alright, you all get up and walk out of the common room. You head towards the front door. Tsuna’s closed it after him - which is a bit rude, now that I think about it - so you walk up to this closed door.” Fuuta slowly slips back into his narrating voice. “Vive, being the one who basically led you out the common room, grabs the doorknob and opens the door. A quick burst of chilly, autumn air sweeps past you all into the guild...”

* * *

* * *

Crisp leaves in an array of fiery colors roll across the guild hall floor, sneaking in past our heroes as they step out. A cool air sends a chill down their spines and fills their chests with ice as they walk towards the road, gravel and leaves crunching under their footsteps.

Tsuna stands on the road beside a small wooden cart hooked up to a black horse.

The wood - splintered and gray - is worn out and dusty, obviously pulled from the depths of the guild’s storage unit. It shudders and groans as Vive and Zorak pile in the back, the wagon bed dipping down to graze the ground and the wheels buckling like the knees of newborn doe. It’s not wide enough for Vive’s legs, but she doesn’t seem to mind, letting her legs dangle over the side.

The horse - head and shoulders slumped with age - lets out a labored breath as the shafts it’s tethered to weighs down significantly. It shifts a bit on its feet, the cart lurching forward while the weight on its back redistributes. It’s almost settled down before Fran hops onto the jockey box, throwing off the weight all over again. It blows its long, untamed mane out of its face with a snort and seems to glare at Tsuna, who offers it a nervous smile and a pat on the neck.

“Here’s all the information you need.” Tsuna says, pulling out a wrinkled scrap of paper from his pants pocket. “The address of the shop, the name of the shopkeeper you’ll need to talk to, and the package ID should all be there.” Hesitantly, he moves to hand Fran the fraying leather reins but holds it just out of his reach. “You know, I’m actually a little worried. This is your first time on a mission outside of town. Maybe I should come with you?”

“Uh? Fuck no?” Fran says, making a quick grab for the reins. His fingertips barely brush against the straps before his hand is gently slapped away by Tsuna, who decides to hold the reins a little farther than before. Fran cocks his head back and lets out a deep sigh, body going limp and threatening to slide clean off the wagon. “God, Daddy, we don’t need to be babysat.”

“We’re perfectly capable of picking up a package, Pappy.” Zorak chirps, happily jumping right onto the Tsuna-is-Dad bandwagon Fran started. “After all, we come from the best guild in town!”

“Uh? Zorak? Son? We’re the only guild in town.”

“So still the best!”

“Please. Father.” Vive cuts in, craning her neck to look at her guild master. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Tsuna’s face slowly begins to pale. His cheeks begin to take on a greenish hue. His gaze flits about, eyes suddenly incapable of meeting any of theirs. “I’m sorry... It’s just that I’m responsible for you. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you kids.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us.” Fran says, snatching for the reins, succeeding now that Tsuna is distraught and distracted. “Vive could bench press this horse, I can weasel my way out of any situation, and Zorak... Is admittedly dead meat if we get separated, but it probably won’t come to that.”

Tsuna’s face is still sickly green as he steps to the side of the road, leaning against the wooden fence for support. His eyes are cloudy as he looks at them, lips pulled into a tight line.

“You have to take care of each other while you’re gone, okay? And remember you can always run away if things get too tough.” It’s not a request but a command. An oddly desperate one.

“I’ll make sure we all make it there and back safe.” Vive assures him, pounding her sturdy chest with her fist.

“Alright... Go on then. We don’t want you to get back too late.”

Fran flicks the reins. The horse snorts irritably but begins to push forward down the road in a slow crawl. The wagon’s wheels creak as they begin to roll on top of the uneven, gravel path. They quake under the weight of its passengers and the strain of movement, but they keep from popping off even as the horse works its way into a trot.

Tsuna pushes off the fence and stands in the road to watch them go, ignoring the kicked up dust that blows directly into his face. He waves at them with both hands as they’re slowly swallowed by the horizon, as if just realizing they’re about to part. “Make good choices!” he shouts, choking a bit on the dust but still waving energetically. “Have fun!”

Vive and Zorak, twisted around to look at their guild master one last time, wave back. They wave until he’s completely out of sight, and even then, they continue to stare backwards towards the guild. They observe the people of Matsunaga living out their lives as they pull away from the warm embrace of the village’s borders. Tall pine trees dressed in leaves burnt by autumn begin to line along the dirt path, setting the picturesque town in a frame of vibrant, fiery color. It becomes but a flicker of orange as they get farther from home.

It’s only when they reach the cave’s entrance - closer to a gash cut into a large mound of dirt than a proper cave opening - that they look forward.

* * *

* * *

“Alright, you pull up to the cave opening and you realize that it’s a little smaller than you originally thought it would be? It’s _just_ big enough for all you to squeeze in on foot.” Fuuta says, taking a sip of water from his thermos.

He presses a key on his computer and a green map appears on the rest of their screens. A large, black square sits in the middle of it, the outline of their first dungeon. Three blinking circles of different colors - red, yellow, and green - sit right outside of the outline, most likely meant to represent their characters.

“The wagon can’t fit?” I-Pin asks, fiddling with the ends of her braids as she looks at the screen.

“Nope. It’s too wide.”

“What about the horse?” Lambo asks.

Fuuta furrows his eyebrows. “Uh, the horse is-” He quickly checks his notes. “-actually shorter than Vive, so he can fit since she can fit. You can’t ride it though. Well, maybe Zorak could, but Fran and Vive would have to slouch or lie down on it.”

“You have a whole profile for the horse?” Fran asks, craning his neck to peek at Fuuta’s notes.

Fuuta pulls his folder out of Fran’s field of vision, sending him a sharp warning look. “I just have general stuff like the kind of horse he is and his age and what his name is.” He glances at his notes before snapping the folder shut. “Which is Walnut, if any of you wanted to know.”

I-Pin and Lambo _Awww!_ fondly at the useless information.

“I’ve always wanted a pony.” Lambo gushes, cuddling the pillows he’s laying on as if it’s Walnut himself.

“You’re taking the horse in with you?” Fuuta’s already clicking his pen, ready to take down notes.

“Well, I guess we can’t leave poor Walnut by himself.” I-Pin reasons. “Some filthy thief like Fran might come along and steal him.”

“She’s right. I used to steal horses back in France for fun.” Fran say before slipping into character. “ _Alright, let’s get the horse untied and head in._ And then I untie the horse and drag everyone in so we can get this over with.”

“You guys cool with being dragged?” Fuuta asks, glancing at I-Pin and Lambo.

“We’ll allow it since we do have to get a move on.”

“Alright, hold on a second.” Fuuta clicks a couple things with his mouse and makes a dark brown circle appear next to the rest of their tokens. Another click and all four circles move into the black box, a smaller bluish-gray box appearing where they stop.

“Okay.” Fuuta folds his hands and places them on the table. “You walk into the entrance and see that the cave is dimly lit with torches lining the walls burning with blue fire. You stop at the mouth of the deeper part - the _bowels_ , I guess - of the cave and see the road immediately splits, there’s a path going left and a path going right.” Another bluish-gray square appears directly on top of the first square before two other squares quickly follow, flanking it. “Fran - since you dragged everyone in - I’m going to assume you’re at the front of the party and holding onto the horse’s reins, so you can make the first move if no one else wants to.”

Fran rolls his dice around in between his palms like a high stakes gambler. “What can I do?”

“Oh, anything really. You can try and pick the best path randomly... Or you could try and do an investigation check to try see which way would be the best or safest to take... Or you could look for traps-”

Fran cuts off Fuuta’s rambling. “There’s traps?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Maybe? It’s a dungeon, after all.”

“I want to look for traps before I walk in.”

“Alrighty. I’m going to need you to do a perception check. You’re gonna wanna roll the d20-” Fuuta holds his own up, just in case Fran’s forgotten which one it is. “-and add whatever you have as your wisdom modifier.”

“13. Plus 2. 15.”

“Oh yeah, there’s a trap literally right in front of you.” A click of Fuuta’s mouse makes a translucent, yellow skull appear on the square directly above their starting square. “You can see the little wire running right across the opening you have to go through to get into the rest of the cave. You can try and disable it; if you want.”

“Hmm.” Fran sits there and thinks for a moment, not blinking. “Nah. I step back and pull the horse with me and say, _Seems safe. Ladies first._ motioning for - what’re your fucking names again? - Vive and Zorak to go in first.”

“That’s mean but perfectly acceptable. Uh, let’s go clockwise and have I-Pin - or Vive, if that’s what you prefer - go next.”

I-Pin furrows her eyebrows, tugging at her braids. “Do I know the trap is there?”

“He didn’t tell you, so no.” Fuuta grins sheepishly at her. “I don’t know if your character would double check or just trust him.”

I-Pin glares at Fran and juts her foot out towards him, catching him in the side. The dull _Ow._  Fran lets out is barely satisfying to be worth it. “Ugh.” she groans, flopping back into her pillows, growing a bit more irritated when she knocks her head on the leg of Fuuta’s desk. “Well, from how you described her, Vive sounds like a really nice, good girl.”

“She is.” Fuuta confirms.

“She’s very good of heart.” Lambo adds, nodding sagely. “I made sure she was, since I think you’d like to play a noble person.”

“Then she would - _stupidly_ \- trust her shady comrade.” I-Pin admits begrudgingly, head lolling to the side as she lets out a groan.

Fran rubs his now bruised side and bats his eyes at her. “The faith you have in me is heartwarming.”

She kicks him again before turning to Fuuta. “Okay. I walk out to my doom.”

“And I walk with her, since I also don’t know there’s a trap.” Lambo says, reaching out to squeeze I-Pin’s knee and show solidarity.

“Okie doke.” The red and green circles move forward into the cave, the yellow skull turning black as they settle in the space. “The cord snaps as soon as the two of you pass through, triggering a volley of arrows to rain down on the two of you from the ceiling. I need you two to do a dexterity saving throw. That’s a d20 plus whatever you have for dexterity.”

I-Pin rolls and bites her lip. “9?”

“I got 13.”

“Okay, so _you’re_ good.” Fuuta says, pointing at Lambo. “You dive out the way just in the nick of time. You’re fine. You don’t take any damage.”

“Sweet!”

Fuuta then turns to I-Pin, nose wrinkled a bit. “ _You_ , on the other hand, got hit.” He begins to panic when she lets out another groan. “ _But!_ You just barely didn’t make it, so I’m going to let you roll a d4 instead of a d8. That’ll reduce the amount of damage you could get.”

“Alright...” She rolls the die. “3?”

“Okay. So, like, _one_ arrow gets your arm. It doesn’t even lodge in, it just kinda cuts your arm. It bleeds, but you’re a big girl and you can take it.” Fuuta speaks quickly, trying to reassure I-Pin as much as possible so she doesn’t get too disappointed. “You do have to subtract 3 from your hitpoints, but don’t worry, that’s still 70 percent.”

“I can regain that, though, right?” I-Pin asks, fiddling with her computer as she drops her current HP from 10 to 7.

“Oh yeah. You guys are a really weird party in that you have two bards, which is one of the classes that can learn healing stuff. So either Fran or Lambo - Zorak - can heal you if you get too beat up.” Fuuta flicks through his notes and moves a sheet of paper from the middle of the stack to the front. His eyes slowly slides over to look at Fran. “So, like, you didn’t get hit by any arrows, but the arrows were obviously a scary thing. So the horse - the one next to you - gets spooked. You’re going to have to roll animal handling - d20 with the wisdom modifier - to see if you can get it to calm down or not.”

Fran, looking unbothered as usual, rolls with a flick of his wrist. The die bounces and skids onto Fuuta’s keyboard. “12.”

“That’s enough. You’re able to calm it and avoid the horse knocking you with his hooves.”

“Dammit!” I-Pin and Lambo mutter, snapping their fingers in unison.

“He’ll-He’ll get his just desserts eventually.” Fuuta assures them, ignoring the way Fran’s stare bores into him.

“Can I-? **_Fran, you said it was safe!_ ** ” I-Pin shouts, switching into her Vive voice.

“ _I thought it was._ ” Fran replies cooly.

“Roll deception, Fran.” Fuuta says, chewing on the end of his pen as he watches this interaction unfold. “That’s your charisma plus proficiency bonus if you have it. I-Pin roll insight, wisdom and whatever proficiency you may have.”

Their dice clatter against the wooden table. Fran is the first to get a result. “14.”

“I’ve got 15.”

Fuuta claps his hands, giving Fran a pleased smirk. “Justice prevails. She can tell you’re lying.”

“ _You liar!_ ” I-Pin says. “Vive gets up and gives him a really dirty look and says to Zorak, _He let us go first so he wouldn’t get hurt._ ”

“ _That’s not very nice..._ ” Lambo says, voice conveying his character’s teary eyed disappointment while the tongue he sticks out conveys how pleased he is to see Fran face consequences.

“ _Guys... C’mon. Let’s all just be cool._ ” Fran drawls, holding his hands up in a _Chill out._ Gesture.

“ _You- Why would you do this to us? We’re supposed to be a team!_ ” I-Pin says. Her voice carries the confusion and hurt her character holds in her heart, but the shit eating grin on I-Pin’s face shows the pleasure she holds in _her_ heart.

“ _I don’t know._ ” Fran replies with a shrug. “ _Guess I’m just a little stinker._ ”

“ _Well, you’re going to have to make this up to us._ ” I-Pin says, crossing her arms. “ _You’re going first from now on and you’re going to diffuse all the traps for us._ ”

“ _Aight._ ”

Fuuta gives Fran a look, an amused quirk to his lips. “You gave in _way_ faster than I thought you would.”

“I rolled her numbers, and I don’t want to fight someone with a 3 in strength when I have a-” Fran glances at his screen. “-fucking negative 2.”

“Fair enough. What next, friendo?” Fuuta asks as he moves the yellow and brown circles onto the square with the red and green dots.

Fran pulls out a coin from his pants pocket and flips it, watching as it lands on the number side. “Right, but I want to do a perception check first. If there’s a trap I’m changing my mind, but if not we’re just gonna go ahead and go that way.”

Fuuta gestures for him to go ahead and Fran rolls his d20. A natural 20. The circles shift to the square on the right, another square popping up to the right of it.

“When you look to the right, you not only notice that it’s perfectly straight with no traps, but there’s something _strange_ about the left wall going down that path. The color is a little off from the rest of the wall, and it catches the light differently. Almost as if it’s made from a different material...”

* * *

* * *

“I think there’s a secret door right here.” Fran says, moving up towards the wall and gently placing his hands on it. It’s slimy and rough against his palms, but it’s not the slick, rocky feel of the typical cave lining. The edges felt more... _manufactured_. It’s rough and uneven, yes, but these edges are calculated and meticulously placed. Carved by hands and tools instead of the elements.

He pushes against the wall with both hands, but it won’t give even a little. Vive comes up behind him and tries to give him a hand. It doesn’t move an inch.

“Maybe there’s a panel or something we have to push.” Zorak suggests, sidling up to the wall and looking up at it.

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, lips jutting out in an inquisitive duck like expression. His eyebrows furrow as he scans the surface. After some careful scrutiny, he notices a small hole towards the right side of the wall. It was perfectly circular and just wide enough for someone to fit their finger in it.

“Maybe there’s a button in there!” Zorak chirps, gently pushing past his friends to get to the hole. Moving onto his tippy toes and stretching his arm all the way up, he’s just barely able to stick his finger inside. Luckily it was shallow, allowing him to press the button.

The action results in a low rumble. The room begins to shake as the wall begins to shift. The party stumbles back as the ground shakes, the stalactites above them quivering dangerously. Small pieces of the cave ceiling rain down on them. Walnut lets out a panicked winnie, rearing back on his hind legs. His pupils shrink dramatically as he hops back and forth between his hind and front legs, looking as if he’s frantically trying to decide whether he wants to buck or just run.

Zorak whirls around to raise his arms up towards him in a calming gesture. He shushes him as he slowly steps to him, placing a hand on Walnut’s flank when he stops clopping about, tail and ears still flickering irritably. Zorak rubs his side and speaks gently to him until he’s completely calm, taking hold of his reins so he doesn’t run off.

The wall pushes inward an inch before slowly moving to the left, sliding to fit perfectly into a thin recess in the actual cave wall. It reveals an opening that leads into another damp cave tunnel lined with torches burning with blue flames. Fran steps up to the newly formed entrance, careful not to walk past the wall into the other hall, and takes a look inside. The dim light cast off by the torches hits something metal and makes it glint in the corner of his eye. He turns his head in its direction.

Running along the width of the entrance, closer to the cave floor, he spots a thin, silver tripwire similar to the one Vive and Zorak triggered a few moments ago.

“There’s another trap right here.” he says, trying to take a step away and backing straight into Vive.

“Then disarm it.” Vive orders, crossing her arms and squinting down at him. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, as if she’s distressed herself at how cold she’s being. She stands firm though, shoulders squared and the look in her eyes very pointed.

Fran’s head droops backwards as he lets out a long, low labored sigh. As slowly as possible, he lowers himself onto one knee beside the taut wire. He takes a moment to crack his knuckles and stretch his fingers before leaning over the wire to look at the other side of the wall, careful to sweep his cloak behind him so it didn’t fall on - and accidentally trigger - the trap.

He spies a small, metal box attached to the wall that the wire seems to be running out from. He blinks at the device and scratches his head. “I don’t actually know how to do that.” he admits, glancing back at his teammates.

“Give it your best shot.” Vive replies, taking a step back and motioning for Zorak to do the same.

Zorak steps back, tugging Walnut’s reins so he’ll follow. His eyes flicker back and forth between his two teammates. His nose scrunches up as he presses his lips together in a straight, awkward line.

Fran curls his lip at Vive before unsheathing the dagger that hung from his utility belt. Turning back towards the trap, he jams the dagger in between the metal box and the cave wall. With a hard flick of his wrist he pops the metal box loose, the whole trap falling limp on the floor.

“Did that... work?” Zorak asks, lifting himself onto his toes to look over Fran’s crouched body, trying to see if any arrows have fallen from the ceiling.

Fran sticks his leg out into the new corridor and waves it around, as if tempting the trap to go off on him. “Seems like it.” he says, pulling his leg back and standing up. His gaze slides towards Vive and he sniffs. “Shall I continue my march, captain?”

“Please.”

Fran leads them into the hall. Vive and Zorak follow him hesitantly, keeping their eyes trained upwards as they crossed the threshold into this new part of the cave. As they step into the hall, they can see the faint glimmer of dozens of metal arrow tips spaced between the stalactites in drilled out holes. Vive grips the still-fresh wound on her arm as she pulls her gaze away from the ceiling.

As soon as they all pass through, the walls begin to shift again, this time the false wall sliding back out of the recess to close the entrance. They take a moment to watch as the only definite path back home disappears before their eyes. And then they go back to fumbling about in the dark.

“Which way now? Left? Right?” Zorak asks, head whirling in either direction before deciding to look right. He squints down the hall, the only one in his party not blessed with the ability to see in the dark. He hums for a moment before grinning, placing a confident hand on his hip. “I’m thinking right!”

Vive stares down the hall for a moment before giving her friend a blank look. “You realize that’s a dead end? Right?”

“I meant left.” He quickly spins around pointing in the opposite direction, sash jingling and swaying from the force. “I get those two mixed up a lot.”

“Alright, left then.” Fran turns left and begins leading them down the hall.

He doesn’t take more than three steps before he disappears from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this is the first part of the dnd section of the story, i'd appreciate any input on how all of it felt (if that makes sense???)? input on whether i'm saying the right dnd thing or not would be helpful too lol! also, please tell me if the kid's personalities are weird here, like i've said it's been a while ;;;;; please comment, i eat them for sustenance and you wouldn't want me to starve, would you?
> 
> edit: oh btw i drew the kids dnd characters just in case their descriptions were confusing. it’s nothing great but they’re [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bript28FQIW/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1v7c183ncts37)


	3. Session 1 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this chapter the party runs into a little trouble, oops! it's been a very long time since i updated this but my love for dnd has been reignited and i decided it's time to start working on this again! here's a short little update to keep things moving. still not comfortable with the personalities of the characters or the style, but at least i'm still having fun? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> NOTE: uh some violence happens in this chapter. i don't think i describe it in enough detail to be triggering, but just in case here's a warning

Fran stares blankly at Fuuta as the other man tries to hold in his laughter, lips wobbling from the pressure it’s holding back.

“You couldn’t wait to kill me off, could you?” Fran drawls, slamming his fist onto the table just for the melodrama, the action contrasting with his typical lack of expression.

Fuuta lets a few giggles slip and tries to smother the rest with a hand. “Who said you’re dead, homie?” he asks, quirking his eyebrow purposefully.

“First, don’t say ‘homie’, it makes me lose my will to live. Second, where am I?”

“Well, let’s see.” Fuuta fiddles with his computer for a moment. The yellow dot meant to represent Fran on the map blips out of existence. Then the map grows smaller, sliding to the left to make room for another, separate map that the yellow dot reappears on.

Like the original map, most of this new map is blacked out with only the square the yellow circle is on changing to a bluish-gray color just a bit darker than the squares of the original map. Fuuta grins as Fran blinks at his screen, almost vibrating with amusement. “There you are.”

Lambo lets out a soap opera level gasp, slapping a hand to his chest in shock for flare. After an appropriately dramatic pause, he utters, “...He teleported you!”

“Actually you - Vive and Zorak - look where he was right before he vanished and see that he actually teleported _himself_ somewhere. On the ground where Fran once stood, you can see a panel built into the ground, covered in dirt and dust in an attempt to hide it. You can assume that that is what, uh, made Fran go bye-bye.”

“Does it still work?” I-Pin asks. She’s twirling the end of one of her pigtails in thought. “Is it going to warp us if we step on it too?”

Fuuta folds his hands neatly together and smiles sweetly at her. “I’m going to need you to do an investigation - intelligence - check for me to answer that.”

“Nothing’s free in your world, huh?” I-Pin huffs, pouting a bit as she picks up her die, rattling it in her hand. She casts the die and sucks in a sharp breath at the result. “That’s a 7 plus... 1?”

“You look down and the panel is still there.” Fuuta shrugs. “And that’s it.”

“Dang it.”

“Can I try?” Lambo asks, already rolling his dice. He looks at the result before glancing at his screen. “I don’t have anything to add to it, but I got a 17.”

“Okay so _you_ \- Lambo-slash-Zorak - see something. You notice that the panel is... cracked? Like it’s made out of glass or some polycarbonate material? And it’s just shattered - like you can see thick cracks running all across it? - and it’s steaming. There is some thin, black smoke rising up from the cracks. And you can determine that these cracks were recently made, and that the panel is most likely broken.”

“Okay. I move onto the panel and say, _Look, it’s not doing anything. I guess it can only bloop someone once._ ”

“I move on the panel too.” I-Pin says.

All three of the markers on the first map move to the left, a black skull appearing underneath them.

“While these visual aids are A1, I’d really like to know where the fuck I am.” Fran says, drumming his fingers on the table to feign impatience.

“I’m getting to you, hold your horses.” Fuuta rolls a die under the table where Fran can’t see.

A smile worms its way on his lips.

* * *

* * *

Fran stumbles a couple more steps forward before finding he feels completely displaced.

The torch lined cave backdrop that once surrounded him flips and changes before he can understand how. The torches with their blue flames disappear, casting the cave into total darkness, darkvision his only means to combat this shift. He turns around to speculate about what had just happened with his companions and notices that they aren’t there.

Looking around, Fran notices he’s been moved, somehow, into what seems to be a different part of the cave. The walls and flooring match the rough, rocky interior of the walkways he and his party had been traversing. Out the corner of his eye to the left, he even sees the same type of false wall he and his friends had passed through moments ago, though he couldn’t see another indentation hiding a switch like last time. He figures that the moving walls - or at least, the walls he’s come across so far - are one-way portals. He crosses it off as a means of escape, meaning he can only move forward into the darkness.

“Well, fuck.” he mutters. Or, at least, he intended to.

Wherever he is, the place has a lot of reverb.

Those two simple words ricochet around the room, growing in volume as the echoes create even more echoes. _Well, fuck._ ’s fly in from every direction, making Fran feel as if he’s surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands, of invisible beings that have stolen his voice. His ears begin to ring as the voices begin to overlap, fighting for dominance. A warm trail of fluid begins to run down his neck as the cacophony reaches peak decibel levels. He reaches up and touches the trail, the fluid sticking to his finger tips. He looks at his hand.

Even in the darkness he can recognize blood.

When the echoing stops after a couple minutes, Fran doesn’t notice. A ringing fills his ears as he wipes the blood away with his sleeves, staining his cuffs red and smearing his neck and jaw. Preoccupied with a futile attempt at cleaning himself, he doesn’t notice the shrill chorus of chirps emanating from the cave ceiling overhead.

He is caught unaware when a swarm of bats descend upon him, three getting the opportunity to tear into his arms and legs with their teeth.

He realizes he’s been thrown into combat only after a good chunk of his forearm has been ripped off.

* * *

* * *

 

“So you’re gonna take 3 points of damage and you’re deafened, meaning you can’t hear anything for...” Fuuta rolls his d20. “5 rounds, or 5 minutes, if you manage to finish this fight quickly, which I don’t think you will.”

“Is this revenge for making your little honeys walk into a trap?” Fran asks, marking his damage and flipping through his digital character sheets, wondering where to mark his deafened status. “Because - if I remember correctly - I said sorry for that.”

“No, I don’t think you’re remembering correctly at all.” I-Pin says, a pleased smile on her face, obviously happy karma bit her friend in the ass.

“And it’s not revenge.” Fuuta adds, holding up a die he’d been hiding under the table. It’s a blue die, color matching the set he’s playing with, that looks a little bigger than a golf ball. Little white numbers are etched all over its bumpy surface. “I’ve been rolling random encounters with this the whole time. You’re just really unlucky.”

“Even in a stupid make believe game, I can’t catch a break.” Fran murmurs, propping his head up with his arm and slouching forward. “And how do I perish, O’ Prince of Games?”

“You’re not dying yet, you big baby.” Fuuta says, gently swatting him in the face with his folder. “We’ll get to your bat problem in a second, let’s let I-Pin and Lambo do something before they lose interest.”

“They can’t lose what they never had.”

Fran earns himself another swat to the face, this one not nearly as gentle, but if his nose is stinging a bit, he’s not showing it.

“Okay.” Fuuta says, focusing his attention on his little siblings. “It’s your turn. What’s your game plan?”

“Well - since this is obviously a death maze - we’re going to check for traps and secret doors around us before we start walking anywhere.” I-Pin says, snatching up the leadership responsibilities of their half of the split party. Then, after a moment, she looks at Lambo, remembering that - sometimes - he has opinions on things. “Unless you want to go walking blindly? Maybe that’s a thing your character would do or something?”

“No, I don’t think he’d go rushing anywhere after he just saw Fran disappear or get obliterated or something.” He looks at Fuuta. “Do we think Fran is dead or do we know he just got moved or what?”

“Uh... I think you know that the panel made him disappear, but whether he’s dead or alive is up in the air for you.” Fuuta says before chewing on his lip in thought, drumming his fingers against his laptop. “So you guys both want to search for stuff around you then?”

Their _Yep!_ and _Yessir._ overlap and he waves at their d20’s. “Roll for it.”

I-Pin winces at her roll. “2 plus 2. 4...”

Lambo rolls then immediately throws his hands up in defeat. “8, and I’m a huge dumbass so I have nothing to add to it.”

“You don’t see anything.” Fuuta says. “Just a normal cave pathway. Since you looked around, I’ll tell you that - from what you can see - there’s only one way to go besides the way you came.”

“Alright, guess we’re going that way?” I-Pin looks at Lambo for confirmation.

He shrugs in response. “There’s literally no other choice, so yeah.”

“Alrighty, you guys move further down the hall.” Fuuta says, tapping on his computer and moving the digital tokens accordingly.

“... _And?_ ” Lambo asks expectantly.

“And nothing. There’s no trap in this part of the hall, and you didn’t get a random encounter like Fran did.”

“I wonder why.” Fran mutters under his breath.

“Hush.” Fuuta smacks him with his folder for a third time, happily ignoring Fran’s mutterings of _You’re worse than Bel-senpai._ to flip through his notes. “It’s your turn now, are you ready for these bats?” 

“Oh, I’m _aching_ for these bats, Fuuta.” Fran drawls, apathy dripping from his lips.

“Well then, I’m going to need you to roll something called ‘initiative’.”

* * *

* * *

 

Fran grabs the handle of the keytar strapped to his back and flips it to his front, the keys giving off an ivory glow as the magic in his palm warms into the instrument.

His irises, once indistinguishable from the rest of his pitch black eyes, begin to glow a vibrant shade of green. The light they give off leave a trail of afterimages as his eyes flick left and right, the gears in his brain whirring as he reviews his options and spells.

Ignoring the ringing still present in his ears, his right hand juts towards the navy blue bag hanging loose around his hip. He pulls out a small square of white fleece no bigger than a coin. With a quick, practiced flick of his wrist - hand moving as if drawing a curved shape in the air - the fleece burns up in a small spark of green fire.

The sound of hurried footsteps rushing away from the area fills the chamber the rough, rumbling sound of a false wall opening quickly following it, though he’s deaf to anything but the blood still bubbling out his ear and the ringing that’s shaking his brain.

Holding his breath, he keeps as still as he can, eyes trained upwards towards the swarm.

Though he’s relieved to see the swarm shift towards the direction of the footsteps, flying up and out of the chamber in the direction of the footsteps, he keeps his breath locked in his throat. His eyes flicker about, searching for an exit. Blood drips down his chin as he gnaws at his bottom lip, a knot of frustration throbbing in his chest as he realizes he can’t see any openings.

Keeping his footsteps light, he makes his way down the hall, searching desperately for a way out continuing to come up short.

* * *

 

At the same time - in another, brighter part of the cave - Zorak, Vive, and Walnut are continuing their adventure through the cave.

In search of at least their lost companion’s corpse, the three began to explore the maze-like caves more thoroughly.

Vive leads the party cautiously as they forge ahead. She keeps a careful eye out for traps, her darkvision allowing her to see farther ahead than the rest of the party. Mapping out the paths they’ve taken and the traps they’ve seen on an empty page in her prayer book, she keeps Walnut’s reigns wrapped around her wrist, freeing her writing hand but also allowing her to guide the creature down the rocky path.

Zorak, who’s decided to ride on Walnut’s back to keep up with Vive’s long stride, has taken to nervously braiding their steed’s mane. His eyes, unequipped to see through darkness, are busy crying as he frets over how disappointed Tsuna will be when he finds that they’ve let Fran get obliterated just thirty minutes into their errand.

“Zorak.” Vive says with a mildly exasperated tone, not looking up from her cartography work. “Please stop crying, the cave echoes make it sound double pathetic.”

Zorak sputters and hiccups as he finishes off a fishtail braid at the bottom of Walnut’s mane, shaking hands moving to start a pull through braid above it. “F-Fran’s dead!” he sobs (but not exactly for his maybe-fallen companion) and chokes on his own spit. “Tsuna’s go-going to be _soooooooo_ mad at _uuuuuuuuuuu-huh-uuuuuuuuuuusss_!!”

“He’s not going to be mad! We can’t control if he dies.” Vive says, marking the pathway they had been taking as a dead end and beginning to doubleback. “Besides, he may not even be dead. He could just be teleported away or really tiny or invisible or something.”

“But then how are we going to find him? He could be anywhere, and Tsuna said we have to take care of each other.”

“I told you, I’m mapping the ways we come and go! Eventually we’ll have seen the whole cave. And, if we haven’t seen him by then, well... Maybe then he is dead.”

“ _Vive!_ ”

The word echoes, travelling deep into the dungeon, riding on the cave walls.

A distant chirping quickly follows it, pricking Vive’s ears.

She looks up from her prayer book, pencil in mid stroke, squinting out into the dark.

“Do you-”

The sentence is cut clean off by Walnut rising up on his back legs, a frenzied winnie ripping out his mouth.

Vive is yanked back, the reins wrapped around her wrist going taut. She winces as it digs into her thick skin, barely able to cut into it but drawing blood all the same.

Zorak’s hand quickly finds its place on Walnut’s neck, rubbing calming circles into his skin before he bolts and drags Vive through the rocks.

The steed settles down, but continues to shift on his hooves. Disgruntled huffs of breath rumble in Walnut’s throat as he trots in place, tail whipping aggressively behind him. His head swivels about, staring into the darkness hanging above.

Vive and Zorak exchange panicked looks.

Zorak hurriedly pulls a dagger from his bag to cut Vive free from the reigns, deciding they didn’t have time to untie her.

The blade flashes in the dim light provided by the torches as it slashes her free. Vive stumbles a few steps backwards as she’s set loose from the reign. Rubbing her sore wrist, she looks up towards the ceiling just as a festering cloud of black wings descend upon their tiny party.

* * *

 

Back in the darkest part of the dungeon, Fran tries to find his way out of the chamber he’s been entrapped in, straggling in the darkness.

Two hands running against the slick, mildew covered cavern walls, his bony fingers search for panels and indentations in what seems like a more and more fruitless effort as he journeys on.

His shoulder knocks against a hard surface. Left hand groping blindly towards the object, he finds he’s led himself into a corner. Biting his tongue to hold back a snarky comment, he balls his hands into fists and rests his forehead against the wall, taking a moment to think.

A hot, heaving breath gushing against the back of his neck stills his heart.

Stiffly turning his head, he looks up into a pair of large, red eyes. They glow too-brightly against the pitch black backdrop of this rocky cage. They drill into him with a wild, unblinking glare.

Fran, usually a man of too many words, finds himself unable to speak or even scream. His back is pressed against the cavern wall behind him as he continues to stare, entranced, into the burning red eyes before him.

He is so deeply entranced that he doesn’t hear the way the air whistles as a sharp, unseen blade cuts through it, gutting him with a clean swing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading up to this point! if you like the story (or, i guess, even if you didn't) please leave a review! and if i'm botching the rules of dnd and you're a rules lawyer whose skin was crawling throughout the chapter, feel free to educate me, i don't mind! byeeeeee!


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